From turbanboy@ix.netcom.com Mon Jul 27 23:29:18 1998
Subject: ASSC: One of us
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1998 06:29:18 GMT

Biker Bob looked like he just saw Santa Claus in pumps, fishnets and 
garter belts. 

"You are Lucy's ride ? YOU are LUCY's ride ???"

Ahem.

"Tell ya what. It's real busy tonight. If it stays like this for the 
next 10-15 minutes, none of the girls goes home before 2."

Translation: Hello, my name is Biker Bob. This is MY henhouse, and I am 
the meanest, baddest rooster around.  

"OK... I'll pay the cover and talk to her." 

Biker Bob mumbled something and walked away. $8 later I was in, making
my way to the bar through the throngs of backward baseball caps, cowboy 
hats and Raiders jerseys. I saw Lucy talking to Biker Bob at the 
opposite side of the bar. She plopped herself next to me just as my soda
arrived.

"One more set on stage... it'll be 10, 15 minutes tops. Man, I can't 
wait to take off. I have a story to tell you."

She wasn't her edgy self tonight. Her eyes were shining. There was 
something different about her tonight, she hasn't been this warm to me
in a long time.  

"OK, tell me."

"Listen... I spent $400 last week on strippers. I'm sucha bad girl."

"You did WHAT ???"

"Me and some gals cut our shift short and went to PT's last Saturday to
play with beefcakes. I spent all my money in 20 minutes, tipping at
stage, buying table dances, rounds of drinks… Later on, we picked up two 
guys and took them dancing to an after hours club. I had a blast. There 
was this one guy from PTs I danced with… man, we got all sweaty and we
kissed, and it was so erotic, I... I haven't had this feeling since I
was 15..."

"YEY !"

"... but I didn't take him home that night. Then on Wednesday, us gals 
got together and got trashed. There were 10 of us, and somebody said we
should call the guy I danced with the other night and his friend to come 
over to our house and give us a private show. We called them, and they 
came over.  His friend was dressed as a cop, and one of the gals had a 
huge crush on him, and was pretty wasted…"

"AHA!"

"… and the police officer stripped down naked pretty quick, and I swear, 
that girl was all over him in 5 seconds and she went down on him in
front of all of us, while we were taping the show. Whatta slut..."

"WHO IS SHE ??? WHERE IS THE VIDEO ?!?! YOU GOTTA LET ME SEE IT !!!"

"Settle down, I am not telling you who she is and no, you can't see the
video... anyway, I took MY guy to the bedroom, and I had my own private 
show. Oh, man... it was most excellent! Such muscular legs, such gentle 
touch... we had most fun we could possibly have without actually having 
sex."

No video ? No names ? Biiiiietch...

"No sex ? Did you at least give him a BJ ?"

"No, I didn't. Man, it's been over a year since I gave my last BJ. But, 
I am good at it. I know how to make a guy happy."

"Ha-ha. How do YOU know if you give good BJs ?"
 
"Because that guy from a year ago told me it was the most excellent BJ
that he has ever had!"

"Did he write a poem about it ?"

"A poem ?" She raised her eyebrow. "No..."

"See, there are good and then there are most excellent BJs. When a guy 
gets a most excellent BJ, he goes off and writes a poem about it. That's 
a guy thing."

"Really ???" There was a sound of disappointment in her voice. "I didn't 
know that. Hmmmm. Okay, anyway, he might be working tonight and...  OK, 
I'm up next. We're leaving after this set."

Lucy got up and went to the DJ booth. I glanced around the room. Ah, 
there's this cute blonde with awesome tits I remember from a few weeks 
ago walking toward the side stage. Her pussy talked to me last time I 
tipped her at stage, so I got up to go & amuse myself with her while 
Lucy's busy on the main stage. Then the song started. Shit. Nick Cave. 
This is the CD I bought her for her birthday. My feet took a sudden 180
degree turn and carried me to Lucy's stage. She smirked when she saw me
walk her way, and as soon as I set down, she crawled toward me. She was 
still fully dressed, except for the panties. After her usual "wheee heee 
I'm waving my cootchie-in-your-face" schtick, she leaned over the
tiprail and buried her hands under my shirt, all the way down to my
tailbone. She made a long, deep scratch with her nails, slowly moving 
her fingers up my spine toward my neck. I felt my skin burn. 

"Hey, hey, hey! What if I had a date tomorrow?"

"Get real. If you did, I'd be the first to know."

Smartass. As her set finished, she quickly dressed up and mouthed "I'll 
be right back" to me before she stormed off to the locker room. OK, 
Godot time. When they say it'll be 'just a minute', what they mean is 
"lemme take a hit or two from the bong, dial a few numbers, exchange a 
few war stories with my naked coworkers, take off my makeup, take a 
quick shower, babble on the phone some more, and then, after he sends a 
third dancer to the locker room to go look for me, I just may decide I 
let him wait long enough and get out" Hold on... wtf ? She got dressed
in... 2 minutes ? This evening defies the Law of Stripper Universe. She
yelled at DJ Shorty and tossed a wad of money in his general direction. 
Three big steps later she was at the bar, hissed at Biker Bob, slammed 
his pimp money on the counter, grabbed my arm, and dragged me toward the
exit.

Babbamobile was on its way to PT's. Lucy was putting on her makeup and 
kept bitching how Biker Bob made her tip out twice as much just to let 
her leave early. 

"I hope my guy is working tonight... We spoke earlier today and he said 
he might work tonight. I was gonna take him out shopping today, but he 
was busy..."

"Shopping ?"

"... but that's okay, I'll see him either tonight or at my club in a few 
days".

"At... your club ???"

"Yeah, see, he had a crush on this one dancer who is working at my club, 
so he got a job as a bouncer... he only works once a week, tho. I dunno 
if he ever scored with her... I think he did."

Oh, brother. A bouncer ? A bouncer at her club ? A dancer is spending 
her money buying private shows from a guy who is a stripper at PT's and 
a bouncer at HER club ??? 

"See, I think he likes me because he's a sub and I am a dom."

"How... how old is he ?"

"He's six years younger than me... but it really doesn't matter."

"No, it sure doesn't… By the way, did he ever yell 'Spank me mommy!!!' 
when he danced for you ?"

There was a brisk sound of her palm slapping against my bare skin. Then 
there was a prolonged silence. Then there was laughter. Then there were
words "pig & bastard & hate". Then there was a yell "Come to momma!"
Then there was laughter, again. Then we got to PT's.

Once upon the time I was a young lad, and it was Saturday, and some bad
boys and girls asked me to come with them to PT's. I was pretty straight
laced myself back then, and thought that Diamond Cabaret, with their 
beautiful and cold women in night gowns is as good as it gets in this 
city, and I even *liked* the place back then. To say that I was a bit 
overwhelmed with what I saw at the PT's on my first visit would be an 
understatement. Strippers at PT's all looked and behaved like bad gals I 
knew in highschool; you know, the types who cut classes to smoke dope, 
drink cheap beer and touch their boyfriends' pee-pees. I was hooked.  
However, that was back when they had a manager that actually knew what 
he was doing, and a lot has changed since then. Except, of course, Toni. 
Death, taxes and Toni at PT's on Saturday night. 

Just as Lucy and I got our drinks, Toni got called to work the bar. I 
parked myself in plush chair near the bar, while Lucy took the beeline 
to Tarzan's stage. A few minutes later, Toni was between my legs, 
leaning over, placing her hands on my shoulders and beginning to rub my
crotch with her knee... good ole Toni, wasted as usual, doing what she's
been doing for God knows how long. Then I felt another pair of hands on 
my shoulders & wet lips kissing my neck & locks brushing against my 
cheek. I looked up, and saw Lucy leaning over me from behind and kissing
Toni's face. Then the gals came closer to each other and all I could see
were fire red locks, milky white skin, a pair of red lips firmly locked 
against each other, a heavy makeup, a wall of burgundy red straight 
hair...  freckles, freckles everywhere. Lucy kept pinching my nipples. 
Toni stopped moving her knee, lifted her arms and caressed Lucy's face. 
Nice. Next time, I am bringing a pair of black wigs for those two to 
wear should they decide to repeat this stunt in my presence.

Lucy's voice was trembling as she broke off the kiss. "Who's that cute 
guy on stage?"

Toni giggled. "Oh, he's an old buddy of mine. I used to sneak him in 
when he was underage."

"How... how old is he NOW ?"

"He's 6 years younger than you, darling."

A dark cloud went over Lucy's eyes. I turned my head away, covered my 
face with hands, and chuckled quietly.

Lucy's boy wasn't working tonight, so we spent our time tipping gals we 
both knew from the happy times when Lucy was working at the PTs. No 
nasty for either of us tonight, however. Lucy was adamant to get 
something going against all odds, and foolishly had a few table dances 
from her old gal pals...  still nada. In her never-ending quest for 
mileage, she moved over to Tarzan stage. Nope, she ain't getting nutin' 
at that stage, either. Just as she was ready to get up and join me, the 
youngster Lucy asked about earlier took the stage again. 

Her face lit up as a Christmas tree as she was watching him climb up 
onstage. She spread a wad of dollar bills in front of her, all the while 
keeping the goofiest smile on her face that I have ever seen on a human 
being. Her Johnny Weissmuller kneeled in front of her, and she touched 
his hand. Her hand moved slowly, like as if she was afraid that a life 
is playing a cruel joke on her and this young men is just a dream, and
if her hand touched his she'd wake up in her bed all alone, again. He
smiled at her, held her hand, touched her hair, and spent the whole song 
flirting with her, but never touched her face or body, only coming 
closer to her when she'd reach over to tuck another dollar bill under
his briefs. He was a low mileage dude, but he was good at sucking out
the last dollar bill out of this wide eyed lonely woman sitting at the 
tiprail … who was doing the same to some wide eyed lonely guy at her 
club just a few hours ago.  

Lucy was done tipping the youngen just as they announced that it was 
time to go home. She looked a bit phased when she came to me, and kept 
mumbling how good it was that she couldn't have a dance from the dude, 
because she'd go off and give him the last cent she had. We got out, and 
she started walking... away from where my car was. 

"Er... Lucy ? LUCY !"

She turned to me. She still had that glazed donut look in her eyes. 

"What ?"

"Er... we parked that way, remember ? Hello ?"

"Aw, shit... what am I thinking... ?"

"... prolly about that pretty thing you just tipped at stage ? 'sokay, I 
know the feeling. C'mon follow me."

She got in my car, buried her head between her hands and mumbled "God, 
what am I doing... this is so embarrassing."

I avoided highway and The Boyz, and took sleepy side streets across the 
town. Time to cheer her up. I popped the tape in, and soon the voice of 
that Aussie junkie filled the air. He was calling us to come and sail 
our ship around him, and burn the bridges down. She smiled. Our ship was 
sailing into the darkness and heat of midtown Denver in July. You could 
almost cut the silence with knife, the only sound coming from The Ship 
Song and the wind drifting through our hair. She sighed and turned to 
me. 

"Tell me... is this bad ? Am I a bad person for doing all this ?"

A long while ago, when I was up to my ears over some pretty young thing 
in a black T bar with ample breasts and a Colgate smile, I rushed to
Lucy for advice. I still remember what she told me many moons ago, word
by word. 

"No, silly of course not. You're just being... a customer, that's all. 
The bad thing is, you have fallen for a dancer. The good thing is, it's 
just a phase in your life, you'll snap out of it soon enough to keep 
your sanity. In a few weeks, you'll either get him or you'll curse his 
name and move on. I don't know if the next thing I'm telling you is good 
or bad, or if you care, but chances are when all this is over, you'll 
understand your customers better. Just don't go off falling for dancers 
left and right trying to repeat this experience, because the rush will 
never be the same as it is now. Instead of just having fun, you may end 
up getting used to making an ass of yourself over strippers, and that's 
not cool at all."

"Damn strippers", she whispered and dived into silence again. Downtown
lights in the distance started piercing the darkness, and bright shadows
were dancing on her face. I never saw her this tense before.

"Tell me... do strippers French kiss ?"

"Some do, but it doesn't happen often. Why ?"

"I mean, do they kiss you the first time they meet you ?"

"No, except for this one fun gal in Dallas... but then again, she was a 
perfect slut. Did I tell you about that one time when she was riding my 
fingers and yelling 'YEEE-HAW!!!' while motioning her arm as if waiving 
a cowboy hat ? She was a load of fun, and stayed with me for about 2 
hours for only $30 and a few shots."

"WHAT ? She did all that for $30 ?!?! Tee hee hee... where do you find 
such cheap sluts ??? Anyway, what I wanted to say is, he kissed me the 
first time he met me at the PTs, so he must have liked me right away!"

I didn't say anything. I may be an ass, but she is my friend, and she is
hurting, and I ain't gonna be the first to break the news to her how men
really are. Not tonight, anyway. Instead, I kept telling her about fun 
shit that happened to me on my glorious perv road to self-destruction. 
We were bathing in downtown lights and she kept giggling and laughing
and stomping her feet and shaking her head in joy, and life was loads of
fun, again.

I parked in front of her house, we got out, and I got her duffle bag out 
of my trunk. We hugged and she looked at me and smiled.

"You know what ?" Her voice was ginger again. "I'm gonna call him 
tomorrow, and invite him over to my place. I'm gonna ask him for a 
private show. And it's gonna be so good, he'll write a poem about it. 
You'll see."

"That's the spirit! If he blows you off, how do you make him understand 
that he hurt your feelings ?"

Her eyes widened. "How ?"

"Find out if he's working at PT's, go there, and spend all your money on
a guy who is his worst enemy. Make sure he sees that you are making out 
with the other guy. That will get him in line, quick."

"Man, you're sucha prick. I am glad you were never my regular."

We hugged once more, she put her duffle bag on her shoulder and crossed
the street. I was watching her glorious butt wiggle in those hiphuggers
all the way to the front door.  One step up, two, three... she's up on
the porch, opening the screen door & unlocking the front door. She
turned around, waived goodbye, opened the door and disappeared.

The curtain was down.

For a few moments I was debating if I should clap my hands & cheer for
an encore, but seeing a few colorful creatures walking in the middle of
the street coming my way, I thought better of it. I jumped in my wimpy
Japanese import and drove away, laughing hysterically all the way to
Boulder. I hope somebody up there watches out for this woman.



Sai Baba